


dudes, is that hannah montana?

by icebucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is awkward, M/M, Modern AU, Sam is protective, Skinny Steve, Stucky - Freeform, and bucky does too, and the jonas brothers, art teacher steve, bucky wanted to be an astronaut, but he joined the service and lost his arm, he came back and he didn't know what to do so he did his netflix thing, i cant write smut so i cut it off sorry, i havent worked it out, i just was imagining it randomly, mentions of their high school life??, natasha is mentioned - Freeform, netflix and chill amiright, ok bye hope u like, rating because of language, sam and steve are roommates, steve is smol, steve loves hannah montana, stevebucky - Freeform, they were a thing in high school, tony is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's done with the week and it's Friday night and he just wants to watch Hannah Montana, but for some reason it's not on Netflix anymore.</p>
<p>When he goes to yell at the Netflix Support guy, things go a little differently than he was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dudes, is that hannah montana?

**Author's Note:**

> So I got inspired by my friend and I bouncing au ideas off of each other. Feel free to yell at me if this is gross, it's my first real stevebucky fic so hopefully it turns out okay. Thanks for reading, and comments/kudos are always appreciated. They seriously make my day. Hope you enjoy!

As if Steve's day isn't going badly enough, they took Hannah Montana off of Netflix.

"What the fuck?" he mutters under his breath in the living room, noting that the place where it used to be in his  _Continue Watching_ row is empty, replaced by an episode of  _Supernatural_ (which he's already seen, and therefore wasn't planning on watching tonight).

It's not like he hasn't already seen all of Hannah Montana, but there's something comforting about having the nostalgic old Disney show playing in the background as he works on his next week's lesson plans.

"What the  _fuck_ ," he repeats, opening up the search bar and typing in  _Hannah Montana_ , fingers fumbling a little.

_Your search returned no results._

Steve sits back, brow furrowed, fingers still on the keys.

It's an outrage. A travesty. He ought to call the Disney executives and the Netflix support people and complain loudly until it's put back on.

Instead he just says, louder, "What the  _fuck_?"

There's a rustling from the other room, and Sam pokes his head through the doorway. "You okay, Steve?"

"They took Hannah Montana off of Netflix, can you fuckin’ believe it, Sam?"

Sam looks like he’s trying not to burst into laughter at Steve’s particularly strong reaction, but he keeps a straight face and replies, "Yeah, man, that sucks, I’m sorry. But hey, maybe now you can watch some decent TV?"

Steve scoffs. "Don’t talk to me about ‘decent TV’, Mr. Sam I-Binge-Keeping-Up-With-The-Kardashians Wilson. At least Hannah Montana has a plot."

Sam shakes his head. "Why do I even try and argue with you, Rogers," he says as he closes his bedroom door again. It isn’t a question.

Steve looks back at his computer. The disappointing search page is still open, still taunting him with the _no results_ message.

"Fuck it," he mutters under his breath, and opens a new tab on his browser, typing in _netflix support_. When he finally reaches the right page, he opens up a chat to complain.

Yeah, sure, it’s childish. Yes, he’s a twenty-five year old man who’s about to officially complain to the Netflix staff about how they took off a shitty TV show aimed at the seven to eleven year old girl audience, but fuck any judgments that might be passed, Steve’s tired and it’s Friday night and he’s drunk and he just wants to watch that episode with the Jonas Brothers in it again.

The chat takes a minute or two to load, and by the time the bar for him to type in actually opens up, Steve is probably way angrier than can actually be justified.

His laptop pings, and he sees that someone’s ready to answer his questions.

**James (10:17):** Hi, welcome to Netflix Support. I’m James, how can I help you today?

**Steve (10:17):** hey james im rly fuckin pissed can u help me

**James (10:18):** I’ll do my best! What seems to be the problem, Steve?

Steve pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard. For a second there, he wonders about James. Does he work from home, does he like his job, does he have to deal with irritated fucks like Steve all the time? How the fuck does he have the goddamn _patience_ to deal with _anyone_? Steve’s almost positive that this politeness is an act. It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night, no one wants to be working.

He hopes James is as pissed as he is; maybe that’ll make it easier for him to relate to Steve’s struggle.

**Steve (10:19):** well james. i got a bone to pick w ur bosses. why the fck did u take hannah fuckin montana off of streaming??????

**James (10:20):** I actually don’t know, I’m pissed too

Steve stops for a minute, a grin sneaking onto the corner of his mouth. James sympathizes. This is better than he could’ve hoped for. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to get James to hack into the Netflix mainframe and bring his favorite Disney Channel show back on.

Shit, he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work like that, but what has he got to lose? At least now he has an inside man.

**Steve (10:21):** are u actually pissed or are u just saying that?

**James (10:21):** No, dude, I’m actually pissed. Hannah Montana is one of those shows you can watch for hours and not get tired of. The nostalgia alone can keep you binging for days.

**Steve (10:23):** ….i think im in love with you

**James (10:24):** Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, Steve. You gotta at least take me on a date first. ;)

**Steve (10:24):** ill fuckin do it james i never back down from a dare

**Steve (10:25):** maybe we can

**Steve (10:25):** netflix and chill

**James (10:28):** I hate you

**James (10:28):** Date cancelled

**Steve (10:29):** wait no

**James (10:30)** : That sounded super passive, do you even want me to stay or do you just want me for my Netflix access

**Steve (10:30):** is ur account free and can i mooch off of u bc that determines the answer

**James (10:32):** I feel so used

**Steve (10:33):** i would never

Steve catches himself smiling like he’s actually texting someone he has a crush on, which is weird. He doesn’t know James. He’s never met him. Hell, he doesn’t even know what he looks like.

James is nice, though. He’s nice to talk to and he isn’t fake like most customer service people and even though it’s just a chat Steve can feel the charm oozing through the screen.

He wonders what James looks like.

He shakes his head as though to clear it of the thoughts and looks back at the screen as his laptop pings again.

**James (10:35):** Well, we’ve never actually met, so don’t get all pissed at me if I don’t 100% believe you. I’m a cynic by nature.

**James (10:35):** :)

**Steve (10:37):** does it help if i tell u this is maybe possibly most likely more fun than watching hannah montana???

**James (10:39):** …..it helps a little.

**James (10:40):** So speaking of Hannah Montana

**Steve (10:40):** u better not be getting my hopes up for nothing, james

**James (10:42):** Just hear me out. We used to send out the DVDs in the mail, and after they stopped having that option, I took one of each season.

**Steve (10:44):** so what ur saying is

**Steve (10:44):** u have every season of hannah montana

**Steve (10:45):** in ur home

**Steve (10:45):** and u didn’t open with that

**James (10:46):** Hey, I had to maintain at least /some/ professionalism.

**Steve (10:48):** that’s a fuckin lie as soon as i said hannah montana u went into flirt mode

**James (10:50):** Don’t you dare kinkshame me

Steve chokes so hard he has to step away from the couch. He can’t breathe, that was completely the opposite of the response that he was expecting. Oh god, now he _actually_ can’t breathe. He stumbles into his bedroom to take a puff from his inhaler, and he can hear the computer ping a few more times from across the hall.

**James (10:55):** Steve?

**James (10:59):** Are you still there?

**Steve (11:02):** srry jameS FYCK i just laughed so hard i had to get my inhaler

**Steve (11:02):** ‘don’t kinkshame me’ what the fuc k james

**James (11:03):** Shit, now I’m laughing

**James (11:04):** It wasn’t even that funny, Steve

**Steve (11:04):** yes it wAs, fiGHT ME JAMES

**James (11:06):** Why would I fight you

**James (11:06):** You just want to fight everyone, don’t you?

**Steve (11:07):** u caught me

**Steve (11:08):** its how i cope

**James (11:09):** Please don’t hurt yourself though

**Steve (11:10):** its ok, im used to it… no one seems to pull their punches even tho im like two feet tall

**James (11:11):** How tall are you?

**James (11:11):** quick it’s 11:11 mke a wihs

**Steve (11:11):** i wish hannah montana was on netflix

**James (11:12):** you little shit

They keep talking, and it’s easy and natural and not weird at all, it’s almost as though Steve swiped right on Tinder, and he’s pretty sure that he would have. James is charming and he’s funny and Steve’s almost positive that the alcohol in his system is making him much more affectionate than he would be normally, but goddammit, he _likes_ James.

He finds out that James hates mornings and loves late nights and his best friend’s name is Natasha and he was in the service and that he doesn’t like to talk about it, but he wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid. He tells James that he’s an art teacher and he lives with his best friend Sam and he loves kids and dogs and helping people and he hates being physically limited but he tries his damnedest not to let it stop him.

**James (12:43):** That’s probably why you’re so damn aggressive isn’t it?

**Steve (12:45):** maybe i just like getting punched ;)

At one point though, he looks at the clock and realizes that they’ve been talking for almost three hours, to which James responds:

**James (1:05):** Oh, shit, that’s a new record

**Steve (1:05):** so i got a confession to make jamessss

**James (1:06):** If this huge secret is that you’ve been drunk this whole time I ain’t gonna be surprised, Steve

**Steve (1:07):** o shit that’s embarrassing

**Steve (1:07):** but i was gonna say i like talkin to u james

**James (1:08):** I like talking to you too, Steve

**Steve (1:09):** don’t make me blush

**Steve (1:10):** so when r u gonna invite me over to watch hannah montana??

**James (1:12)** : I mean… we might not even live near each other

**Steve (1** : **13):** goddammit james its just nice to ask

**James (1** : **13):** I could send them to you through your address registered on the Netflix delivery service

Steve hesitates, then thinks _fuck it_ , and types it anyway.

**Steve (1** : **14):** send nudes instead

**Steve (1** : **14):** fuckggsognseeosnsk igNORE THAT

**James (1** : **15):** You have to wait for those until after the first date

**James (1** : **15):** I’m not sending my dick to just anyone

**Steve (1** : **16):** fair enough

**Steve (1:17):** but srsly hmu w those dvds through the netflix magic come stalk me

There’s a pause, and Steve can only assume that James is using the Netflix database to find his address. He supposes it should be weird and/or creepy, but he did give him permission, so if Steve gets brutally murdered, he’s prepared to take the blame for it.

**James (1** : **20):** You live in Brooklyn?

**Steve (1:21):** yeah do we live in the same building or something bc that would be weird as fuck

**James (1:22):** No, but I think I live a few blocks away from you

**Steve (1:24):** you’re taking me out for lunch tomorrow and you’re bringing all your hannah montana dvds

**Steve (1:25):** this isn’t an option be there or be square

**James (1:26):** Aw, Stevie, I get all tingly when you take control like that

**Steve (1:27):** did you just quote supernatural at me

**James (1:27):** maybe

**Steve (1:28):** forget lunch, we’re getting married tomorrow

They end up exchanging numbers and texting for another thirty minutes before Steve falls asleep on the couch, his phone still clutched in his hand and his laptop still open.

He doesn’t wake up when Sam comes out and carries him to his bedroom and tucks him in before leaving a glass of water on the nightstand and plugging his phone in for him.

\---

It’s almost noon by the time Steve stumbles out of his bedroom the next morning, his head aching and stomach empty. Sam’s sitting at the counter, still in sweatpants, and he looks up with a grin on his face when Steve flops face first over the arm of the couch.

"Rough night, Rogers?" he says, and Steve can fucking _hear_ the knowing taunt in his voice.

"Shut up," he mumbles into the pillow, but since he knows that was weak, he continues, "don’t make fun of me for yelling at the Netflix guy."

"Didn’t sound like yelling," Sam observes, and Steve looks up. "What time are you supposed to meet him today?"

Steve sits up sharply, eyes narrowing. "You read my messages!"

"Nah," Sam says dismissively, standing up and putting his empty plate in the sink. "You were narrating that whole conversation with _James_ at full volume last night. I swear, Steve, you get weird when you get drunk."

Steve blushes (he hates it when he blushes – he has such a low mass that any time any sort of blood rises to the surface he gets a full body tint of pink) and stands, staggering over to the kitchen to get some sort of food. "He was nice," he says honestly, not meeting Sam’s eyes and instead staring into the fridge.

Sam leans his back against the counter, watching Steve rummage around for food. "Listen, if you’re gonna go see some stranger you met while screaming about Hannah Montana online, at least let me come."

Steve scrunches up his nose and turns to look at Sam. "Sam, I can take care of myself."

Sam gives him a Look. "Don’t make me follow you there."

Steve shuts the fridge dramatically, and replies, "Fine, I guess. Don’t embarrass me, I’m supposed to meet him in half an hour."

\---

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t stressed about his appearance on a near dangerous level for the next twenty minutes. It took Sam personally choosing his outfit (classic Sam style – white t-shirt, jeans, dark blue bomber jacket) and telling that his hair looks _fine, goddammit, Steve_ for Steve to actually feel slightly ready to walk out the door.

He still isn’t ready, though, and Sam has to practically drag him out onto the street.

He realizes a block towards the café that they decided to meet at that he doesn’t know what James looks like.

**Steve (12:26):** i don’t know what you look like

**James *heart eyes emoji* (12:27):** like a piece of trash tbh

**James *heart eyes emoji* (12:27):** jk um im in black im a fucking emo

Steve grins at his phone. He can hear Sam snort next to him, but he doesn’t care.

**Steve (12:28):** you loser that’s like 90% of the people in there

**James *heart eyes emoji* (12:30):** ok mr demanding heres a selfie are you happy??

Steve isn’t prepared for what comes next.

At first glance, the man on his phone screen is so startlingly attractive that Steve actually has to catch his breath. James’ jaw looks like it could literally slice through his throat, and his dark brown hair is messily twisted up in a bun. It’s a mirror selfie, so he’s also giving a cheesy grin and a thumbs-up, and Steve can see his entire body is, in fact, in almost all black, except for a denim jacket.

If his eyes linger a little long on James’ thighs in those skinny jeans he’s sure as hell not going to mention it to anyone.

Still, something’s a little off, and it’s not until Steve and Sam reach the next intersection that Steve actually has to stop and catch his breath because suddenly he _remembers_.

"Sam," he says, stopping and grabbing his friend’s arm. "Sam, I know him."

Sam frowns, his brow furrowing over his sunglasses. "Like…more than you know him from your conversation last night?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes out, recognition knocking into him like waves. "Yeah, that’s Bucky."

\---

Bucky won’t admit it, but he got to the café thirty minutes early and hovered around one of the tables at the front with a coffee, leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

His bag is slung over the back of his chair, all four seasons of Hannah Montana packed inside, and Bucky glances at it every few seconds to make sure that it’s still there. It’s kind of stupid, but it’s important to him that Steve knows he wasn’t making it up just to meet him.

Bucky really does have every season of Hannah Montana on DVD.

His phone buzzes, and it’s still ten minutes before they’re supposed to meet, but Steve was pretty drunk while they were talking (no matter how coherent he seemed), and Bucky’s half prepared for him to cancel.

**Steve *sparkle heart emoji* (12:26):** i don’t know what you look like

Bucky pauses, taking a minute to read a little too much into that before responding. There’s no obvious emotion in that text, and Bucky wonders if this is more a statement of fact or a test. He decides to just roll with it.

**Bucky: (12:27):** like a piece of trash tbh

**Bucky (12:27):** jk um im in black im a fucking emo

Steve’s response is nearly immediate, and this time, Bucky can sense the joking tone, which makes him relax a little.

**Steve *sparkle heart emoji* (12:28):** you loser that’s like 90% of the people in there

Bucky stands then, so quickly that he almost knocks over his coffee cup, and darts to the bathroom, clutching his phone in his metal hand. A month ago, he probably wouldn’t have even considered using the prosthetic to hold his phone, but he’s gotten used to it enough that he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally crushing it anymore. Sometimes being Tony Stark’s pet project has it’s perks.

He thanks any god that may or may not exist when he gets into the empty bathroom, and takes the fastest and most successful mirror selfie of his life, holding up his right hand in an over the top thumbs up and flashing the stupidest grin he thinks has ever appeared on his face.

Before he can completely regret his decisions, he sends it to Steve.

**Bucky (12:30):** ok mr demanding heres a selfie are you happy??

Bucky doesn’t necessarily expect an immediate response, given that Steve seems to be traveling, so he makes his way back to the table and sits down. Three minutes pass, and Steve still hasn’t replied, and maybe Bucky got used to the rapid-fire banter between them, but this isn’t like him.

Did he do something wrong?

He isn’t coming, is he. Bucky turns his phone face down on the table. Shit. He saw the arm. He’s freaked out about going on a date (was this even supposed to be a date?) with the fucking Netflix support guy with a metal fucking arm.

Fuck. He should have known Steve wouldn’t come. Really, he was an idiot to expect anything else.

"Bucky?"

He looks up.

It’s like the world stops for a minute, and all he can hear is the rushing in his ears and the pounding of his heart in his fingertips because there’s a man in front of him, and Bucky must be hallucinating, because _Steve fucking Rogers_ is right there, and he hasn’t seen him since –

"S-steve?" he manages, standing. "Oh my god, I thought –"

Steve’s face breaks into a grin, and god, he’s still tiny, still fragile, he still has those baby bird bones, but his eyes are full of fire and he’s like a living version of a sunbeam, and he darts forward and wraps Bucky in a tight hug.

"It’s so good to see you, Buck," he says into Bucky’s shoulder, and it takes a second, but Bucky winds into Steve’s embrace and lets himself wrap his arms around him too.

When Steve lets go, he immediately shoves Bucky lightly on the shoulder. "You told me your name was James."

"Aw, Jesus," Bucky says, stepping back and rubbing a hand over his face. "So it’s true, you were the one I was flirtin’ with last night?"

But he smiles anyway – he sure as hell doesn’t want Steve to think that he doesn’t mean every word that he said last night.

"Why, that a problem?" Steve says casually, but with a note of defiance running through the words.

"Nah," Bucky replies, sitting down again, Steve following suit. "Course not, I should’ve known that you’re the only one who’d start a fight over Hannah fucking Montana."

"Don’t start," Steve says, pointing a finger threateningly at Bucky from across the small table, "don’t you dare pretend like that episode with the Jonas Brothers isn’t the best fucking thing to happen to you."

Bucky snorts, leaning back. "Well, I did always have a thing for twinks," he says, and he lets his gaze run over Steve.

He doesn’t bother to hide it. Steve looks good. Like, _really_ good. He may still have those tiny wrists and that little frame that makes Bucky want to protect him, but he looks so much healthier than he did back in high school. His eyes are brighter, and there’s some color in his cheeks, and he seems like he’s full of even more vitality than he was back then.

High school – god, has it really been that long since he saw him?

"I know you did," Steve says, bringing Bucky back to the present. "High school was fun."

Bucky looks off to the side and then back at Steve, reaching forward to grab his coffee cup. He notices Steve’s eyes flick downward to his shining fingers then, but only for a second, and he doesn’t say anything. His expression doesn’t even change, which Bucky has to give him credit for.

"Go ahead, you can ask about it," Bucky says, surprising himself. "Nat’s trying to get me to talk more about it, and besides, it isn’t like I can hide it forever, can I?"

"No, I guess not," Steve says, and his smile is tinted with what looks like sadness. He reaches forward. "Can I – ?"

"Yeah," Bucky breathes out, stretching his arm out across the table and opening his palm up for Steve to see. "Uh, it’s. It’s pretty cool, I guess. I dunno, I’m still getting used to it."

Steve’s delicate artist fingers are dancing over his palm, but for just the right amount of time; he lets go without seeming too interested in Bucky’s arm over Bucky himself. "When did you get it?" he asks, as though they’re talking about a new TV.

"Almost eighteen months ago," Bucky says, taking his hand back and fiddling with a button on his jacket. "Uh, I got accepted into a program that Stark Industries was starting. Something about helping veterans. I don’t know why they picked me, I just have to give them occasional progress reports."

This is the longest Bucky has ever gone talking about his arm without having to leave; even Natasha had to pry this information out of him over the course of a week. He doesn’t like talking about it, he knows this, but he also knows that he’s always been able to trust Steve. That’s never changed, and Bucky’s almost positive that it never will.

Steve’s silent for a while, looking down. The waitress brings him his coffee and he murmurs a quiet _thank you_. Finally, he breaks the lull and says, "You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were a senior."

Bucky nods, a smile curling up the corner of his mouth. "We had some good times, didn’t we?"

"Yeah," Steve says, leaning back. "We did."

\---

They end up reminiscing about high school and their old friends and all the times Bucky dragged Steve out of an unnecessary fight for another hour, and Bucky’s laughing more than he has in a long time.

He missed Steve more than he’d like to admit, especially since he should’ve kept in contact with him, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.

Bucky tells Steve that he’s got his Hannah Montana DVDs in his bag and Steve practically drags him back to his apartment to watch them all; they’re literally running down the street, laughing, Bucky shouting, “Slow down, you have fuckin’ asthma, Rogers!” and Steve completely ignoring him.

When they make it back up to the apartment, there’s a moment where Steve’s shut the door and he’s breathless from climbing up the stairs and Bucky’s almost sure that Steve wants him to kiss him but he’s scared to, more scared than he’s been of anything in a while.

Steve doesn’t know about all of the baggage that comes with getting involved in Bucky’s life again, and Bucky doesn’t want him to know. Not yet. Not until they’ve had even just a few hours to be normal, like Bucky doesn’t have a metal arm and severe PTSD and Steve doesn’t have every chronic illness under the sun and an all-encompassing desire to physically fight anyone doing wrong.

Instead of mentioning any of this, and instead of kissing Steve, Bucky steps cautiously inside and sets his bag on the table, Steve following him and sitting in one of the chairs.

“So, um,” Bucky says, unzipping his bag and pulling out his DVDs, “are we starting with the first episode or the Jonas Brothers one?”

Steve picks the Jonas Brothers, and they settle down on the couch; Bucky takes the left side instinctively (he doesn’t want to put Steve off with his arm), and expects Steve to sit on the other side (there’s plenty of room), but he _fucking sits right fucking next to him, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._

There’s enough space for an entire other person next to Steve (probably a person and a half, since Steve is so small) and Bucky hasn’t been this physically close to someone in a long time, not really since he came back. Well, he’s hugged Natasha a couple of times but that doesn’t really count, she’s his _friend_ , and Steve – Steve is something else, something in a territory that he doesn’t know how to define yet.

Half of him is thinking about how much he hates dating, and the other half is consumed by how fast his heart is beating.

Bucky tries and fails to get the TV to work, and Steve starts laughing at him and takes over, not complaining, just gently working his way through it. The title sequence starts and they both immediately relax, which is fucking _weird_ , considering they’re grown men with jobs and homes and stable incomes. Just then, Steve’s phone rings and he darts away to the kitchen, whispering _sorry_ to Bucky and looking like he’s trying to avoid being yelled at.

Bucky tries not to eavesdrop, but he hears, “Hey, Sam – no, I – Sam – I’m _fine_ – we’re at the apartment – _yes_ , he came back with me – no, we’re not fucking! – don’t be gross, but don’t come home yet either – okay, fine. I’ll be _fine_ , Sam, Jesus. You’re worse than my mom ever was.” That seems to be the end of the conversation, and Steve comes back over and presses play on the remote again.

“Sorry,” he says softly, still sitting close to Bucky. “He walked me to the café to make sure I wasn’t going to get murdered, but I made him leave once I knew who you were. He’s just concerned.”

Bucky wants to say, _that’s nice of him_ or _my friend Natasha would be the same way_ but what comes out is, “You and him – you’ve never… have you?”

Steve turns and looks at him, eyebrows quirked.

“I mean,” Bucky fumbles on, “it’s none of my business, really, I just. I know you guys are close I just didn’t know if. I mean. Shit. Stop me at any time, by the way.”

Steve laughs. “No, it’s okay. Sam and I have never fucked, if that’s what you were so eloquently trying to ask.”

Bucky’s mouth is partially open and he feels so stupid but he can’t close it, Steve is looking at him with those _eyes_ , eyes that look like they hold the entirety of the stars in the sky and he feels like he could get lost, like for a second he’s a teenager smoking under the bleachers with this beautiful boy again, like he can just turn back the clock and make the past nearly ten years cease to exist.

“I, uh,” Bucky says, mouth dry. He can vaguely hear Nick Jonas speaking on the TV, but he can’t bring himself to actually pay attention.

“Do you,” Steve begins, looking down suddenly, “do you remember when we used to skip math class to smoke under the bleachers?”

“I never shoulda let you smoke,” Bucky immediately says, mouth curving into a slight smirk. “Your lungs don’t work for shit, Steve, I’m a terrible friend.”

“It wasn’t like I woulda listened to you anyway,” Steve says softly, and he looks up, and Bucky can see something else in his eyes now, something that makes him tense a little in anticipation. “And besides, we didn’t just smoke.”

“I – I never shoulda let you do those things either, I mean, we were so fuckin’ young.”

(He’s so nervous why is he so nervous it’s _Steve_ it’s not like he hasn’t done this a million times before he was never the shy one in their relationship and suddenly now it’s flipped and he’s the blushing virgin and Steve is the experienced smooth-talker)

And then Steve says it, and Bucky should’ve known this was coming, he should’ve known they were heading towards this the minute they headed back to the apartment, that this was what was going to happen.

“We aren’t that young anymore.”

“No,” Bucky says, sitting up straighter so that he’s closer to Steve. “No, we aren’t.”

When Steve kisses him, it tastes like coffee and high school and sweetness, and when he closes his eyes he can see those stars that they used to talk about, he can remember telling Steve about all those dreams he had about seeing them up close, he can hear that sweet voice telling him _you can do anything you set your mind to, Buck, I know you can_ , and it makes him ache inside but he’s come full circle, here he is now with someone who believed in him from the start, and if he was nervous before he realizes that this is just like riding a bike after a long time. A little wobbly, a little unsure, a little dangerous, but so good.

This time though, he knows that if he falls, someone will be there to catch him.

\---

**Bucky *heart eyes emoji* (2:04):** if u want we can marathon the high school musical movies next

**Bucky *heart eyes emoji* (2:06):** u don’t have to pay attention to the movie

**Steve *sparkle heart emoji* (2:07):** marry me immediately also be at my place at 7 this shit is happening tonight


End file.
